


Soiled

by Wolf_Lake



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Come Eating, Dominant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Foot Fetish, Hand Jobs, M/M, Omorashi, Piss kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sub Hank Anderson, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_Lake/pseuds/Wolf_Lake
Summary: Connor finally follows Hank to the restroom at work.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Soiled

**Author's Note:**

> Filling the piss-kink-shaped hole in the Hank/Connor tag one word at a time.

Connor, as always, refilled Hank’s water bottle with deliberation, making sure Hank was plenty hydrated. He had his reasons, of course, but Hank never questioned him. He found it was likely safer that way, given the nature of his attention.

For the third time that day, Hank swore quietly and excused himself to the bathroom. Connor hid his smirk behind his waving hand and felt his cock give an interested twitch. Connor decided, this time, to follow Hank.

It wasn’t very thought out in the slightest, which was uncharacteristic of him, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He walked quickly behind Hank, just enough to watch the door close in his face. 

Connor stood there for a second and took a deep breath. He knew he could turn back, but he didn’t  _ want _ to.

He heard Hank’s footsteps stop from inside the restroom and caved, opening the door and storming inside.

“Connor?” Hank turned. “Uh, whatcha doing here? I don’t think you can… y’know.” Hank made a vague gesture.

“I can’t,” said Connor, closing in on Hank who stood in front of a less than hygienic urinal.

“So, what the fuck are you doin’ here?” questioned Hank, both hands falling to his side. Connor stopped a few inches away from Hank and dragged his eyes up and down his unfortunately clothed body. With a simple scan he could tell Hank’s cock was tuned in to their conversation, though it wasn’t quite tenting his jeans yet. Hank did the same and Connor watched him do a double-take, his pupils expanding minutely when his eyes looked over Connor’s crotch again.

“You catching on?” asked Connor, unable to stop the smirk that spread across his face. Hank’s eyes finally met Connor’s again and he blinked slowly.

“What do you want?”

“On your knees and hold it,” replied Connor. Connor could see the metaphorical cogs turning in his brain and grinned when he saw the realization dawn on Hank's face.

“Oh,” said Hank simply. Despite the suddenness of everything, Hank did as Connor asked and dropped to his knees, his face flushed a beautiful shade of scarlet. Connor’s eyes followed him down.

“Good boy,” praised Connor experimentally. He logged every reaction his sensors picked up, concluding that Hank responded very well to the praise. 

“Fuck,” muttered Hank, averting his eyes to instead look at the grimey bathroom floor. Looking from his face to his crotch, Connor determined that Hank wanted this as much as he himself did, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

“Is this alright with you, love?” questioned Connor. He also watched Hank attentively for any signs of discomfort and to his relief, there were none. His social module didn’t frequently fail him.

“More than,” answered Hank, making eye contact again.

“Good.” Connor brought out his hand, moving it down to cup Hank’s face. He bent down and captured him in a rather tentative kiss, pulling back after only a few seconds had passed. Hank looked up at him, his expression nothing short of reverent. “You’re gorgeous,” whispered Connor.

“Thank you,” muttered Hank bashfully, squirming where he sat on his knees. Connor smiled down at him. The sound of footsteps outside of the door reminded Connor of how compromising it would be for the both of them in the event that someone walked in.

“We should take his to a stall,” advised Connor and Hank stood, his knees wobbling for a moment. Connor’s arm shot out to steady him, his instinct taking over and top priority being Hank’s safety. Hank shot a grateful glance Connor’s way and Connor nodded, leading them into the small bathroom stall.

“Fuck, it’s cramped in here,” complained Hank. Connor sighed in agreement, looking around before his darkened brown eyes settled back on Hank.

“I’d say there’s enough room,” replied Connor, lifting both arms and placing his hands on Hank’s shoulders. Hank got the idea quickly and dropped to his knees, back to the toilet and looking up at Connor. Connor kept his hands on Hank’s shoulders, knowing Hank would stay but not wanting to give him the option. “How bad do you need to go, Hank?”

“Bad,” grunted Hank. “Fuck knows you’ve kept refilling my water bottle.. ‘T’s no wonder you pay so much damn attention to it, nasty bastard.”

“Watch your mouth,” scolded Connor, ceasing any contact entirely to his own disappointment. Hank squirmed.

“Fine, whatever,” said Hank dismissively. Connor raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“What was that?”

“Um… yes… sir?” said Hank. Connor made an entirely involuntary noise.

“That’s right,” rumbled Connor, rewarding Hank with his foot against his crotch. Hank hissed and hips bucked, barely catching himself with his hands on the filthy tile floor. Connor laughed condescendingly.

“You’re so desperate,” said Connor, who was barely even applying any pressure with the point of his shoe.

“It’s your fault,” retorted Hank, his face displaying the effort he was putting in. Connor tweaked the sensors in his foot to where he could feel Hank’s cock, even through the shoe and clothing separating them. Connor didn’t reply to Hank’s words, but smiled sadistically and pressed his foot harder against Hank’s cock.

“Oh, shit,” whispered Hank and he shivered. Connor could just barely tell when a trickle of urine wet Hank’s boxers.

“I said hold it,” reminded Connor, though the flush of blue in his face and the tent in his pants gave away his arousal. Connor didn’t mind. He wanted Hank to know how much of a thrill he gave Connor. The control was everything. Hank’s hips gyrated and he sighed shakily, eyes scrunching shut. Connor reached down and put a hand in Hank’s hair, the action making Hank squirm even more.

“Can’t keep still, hmm?” teased Connor, drawing small circles against what was presumably the tip of Hank’s cock through his jeans, tracing against the wet spot there.

“Trying,” was Hank’s response. He contradicted himself by shuddering when Connor tugged on his hair. He opened his eyes and looked up into Connor’s.  _ Poor baby _ , Connor mused when he noticed Hank’s eyes were watering.

“Please, Connor,” whined Hank, his face flushed in embarrassment. Connor concluded the blush was likely because he was begging. Connor wasn’t sure if he was pleading for mercy or to allow him to relieve himself. 

“Please what?” Connor eased the pressure on Hank’s cock.

“Let me- hn!” Hank couldn’t finish his sentence because Connor lifted his foot and pressed above his cock, directly pushing his bladder.

That was Hank’s breaking point and Connor kept his eyes on him. He was beautiful. Hank took a shaky breath and the dam broke as Connor had intended. He could feel the hot, wet piss leak through Hank’s jeans and pushed his foot back up against Hank’s cock. Hank’s hips stuttered again and he cried out, orgasming as he pissed and thoroughly soiling his jeans.

Connor’s eyes stayed on the soaked crotch of the jeans for a second and slowly trailed down, following the trail of piss in what ways he could with Hank still on his knees. His eyes rested on the puddle surrounding Hank and he chuckled darkly before his face fell.

“These shoes are expensive,” said Connor pointedly, shaking a couple drops of piss off of them.

“‘M sorry,” mumbled Hank, still entirely fucked out.

“Sorry won’t cut it, darling,” Connor lifted his foot higher, putting it just below Hank’s chin. “Clean it.”

Hank moaned quietly and went down with no protest, his tongue dragging across the vamp of his shoe and licking off his urine. He kept his eyes up at Connor and Connor fumbled to get out his cock, realizing that staying pent up wouldn’t do any good. He gave himself a few slow strokes watching Hank, but Hank’s hand twitched and then raised to wrap around Connor’s cock.

Connor let him pump his cock, having trouble deciding between whether he wanted to watch Hank’s tongue on the heel of his shoe or his thick hand pumping his cock. Hank swiped his thumb across the tip of Connor’s cock, then pressed down on it for a second. Connor groaned quietly and he came with his hips jittering, managing to keep his eyes open only to see his cum paint his shoe with white streaks.

“That, too,” panted Connor as the last of his cum dribbled onto the shoe. Hank obeyed again and ate the cum off of the toe cap of Connor’s shoe. “Good boy.”

Hank hummed happily at Connor’s praise. After another minute or so, Hank had sufficiently cleaned off Connor’s shoe. He wriggled in discomfort.

“Stay here, pretty boy,” said Connor, tucking himself in his pants and straightening his tie. “I’ll be back with clean clothes.”

Hank nodded and Connor left the stall, going to grab the clothes he kept in Hank’s car for future use with a grin on his face.


End file.
